


Existentialism

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon, Fluff, No Slash, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-15
Updated: 2005-05-15
Packaged: 2018-12-27 12:16:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12080892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: High School/Alternative Universe. He's hands in my hair and hips, mouth sliding against my throat and knees nudging mine apart. Hips pressed together and fingers behind ears, lips against the bridge of my nose and eyelashes against my cheeks. He's fucking got me wherever he wants me and secretly it's also the other way around.





	Existentialism

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

I've always made these lists in my head, ever since I could remember. Lists of people I wouldn't want to see again in my life, a list of my favorite days of the week, and lists of my favorite lines from songs. When I was younger, I made a list of names I'd give to my future pet dinosaur. As I got older it turned into guys I'd like to fuck and the different kinds of booze I'd stolen from my dad's liquor cabinet. The current one I had under construction was: reasons why having a big family fucking sucks.

Reason number one was exactly this: I always ended up locked in a bathroom when the coveted family get together happened. And that's exactly where I was at right now, leaning back against the linoleum tiled floor, pretending I didn't know about all the disgusting things that were inevitably crawling all over it. Downstairs the sound of my family arguing about whatever the fuck it is they thought was important enough to yell over came right through the thin floorboards I was laying on, and the foot steps of the few kids in attendance running around, slamming into cupboards and falling down narrow staircases echoed through the hallway outside the locked door. Reason number two was that the food was always gross and over cooked.

I stare at the white ceiling above me, and count backwards from a hundred in my head. If I don't time it just right, somebody will ask where I wandered off to and then come up here and look for me. Usually my parents send my sister, but on the terrible off chance, sometimes it's my older cousin or grandma and then I have to fake trite conversation as we make our way back downstairs and out to the back porch where everyone is sitting around and pretending to enjoy each other's company. I get down to ten and then slowly sit up, enjoying the rush of blood to my head as I move too fast - it makes me dizzy and I have to shut my eyes for a moment until it goes away. Just as I'm about to stand up, someone knocks on the other side of the door.

"Uh, hold on." I call, brushing off my pants as I make sure nothing that was once on the floor is now attached to me. Underneath the door I see a shadow shift outside, stretching across the dirty while tiles that I'm standing on. I start across the small room, stepping on the shoulder of the shadow and when I unlock the door, it disappears. I look up into the face of my mother, her mouth set in a pretty heavy line as her eyes flicker between the both of mine, trying to see what I've been thinking since I last saw her. She hasn't been able to read my eyes since I turned eight - no mom, I didn't eat the last cookie, I swear.

"Dinner's ready." She says quietly, and I nod immediately. I don't think she really likes being here either. I mean who would willingly want to go to my grandma's house to get castrated anyways, all twenty three members of my dad's extended family hugging and forcing smiles and telling you you're taller then they remember. I see her eyes flash and I can hear her saying 'I wish I could disappear into locked doors like you do' to me, but then she turns away and heads back towards the rickety stairs.

\---

"So how old are you now, Justin?"

I look up from my plate and into the beady pupils of my uncle, trying to ignore the way his eyes are all droopy and he has my dad's smile, and the fact that last month when we came for the usual family dinner, he asked me the same damned question.

"I turn eighteen next month."

"Justin's graduating next week, in fact tomorrow night is his prom." My mom says, butting into our conversation and waving her fork around like it somehow makes her point more legible. My uncle raises his eyebrows and looks at me with this expression on his face that makes me feel sick, the 'remind me to tell you the story of how I took my date's virginity in the bathroom of a hotel on the night of my prom when your mother isn't listening'.

"I don't want to go but she's making me." I state, which immediately gets the 'shut up and pretend you're happy' look from my mother. I ignore it and smile at my uncle, who's looking at me dumbfounded. Because what seventeen year old kid doesn't want to go to his prom? He opens his mouth to say something else, but just as he gets out an 'ah' sound, my cell phone rings and I get another stare from my mother, the 'you ignore that or you're in more trouble then you know' one. I shrug at her and reach into the pocket of my jacket, and after a quick check of the caller ID, I force a half-smile across the table to my uncle. "Would you believe that, it's my date."

He gives me this all knowing smile and winks at me as I hit the talk button and dodge my mother's fiery stare by glancing across the table at my dad, just to make sure he's not registering the fact that I'm about to make an exit from his coveted family get togethers. I think the last thing he's going to notice right now is me, because he's too damned busy looking down my uncle's wife's shirt.

"Hey, what's up?" I ask quietly, moving my fork from one side of my plate to the other and awkwardly shifting under both my mom's hard stare and my uncle's questioning one. I push myself backwards a little and my chair slides across the wooden floor, almost bumping into the side table behind me. "Hold on." I look at my mom and then across at my uncle, gesturing to the phone and then outside. "I'm gonna take this outside, I'll be back in a minute."

My uncle laughs and I can hear him commenting to my mom, something about 'the old ball and chain' as I start out of the dining room. I'm in the kitchen before I can hear anyone asking where I've gone, and by my own rules that's far away enough to not have to answer.

"Fuck, I'm so glad you called. I was about to rip my hair out." I laugh quietly, softly closing the kitchen door behind me as I make it into the back hallway without anyone following me. Usually one of my younger cousins decides to pretend they're my shadow and by the end of the night I can clearly visualize myself punching one side of their head and watching as my fist comes out the other.

"Good. The day you start enjoying those fucking things will be the day I commit a slow suicide." He snickers, and I hear him moving around, rough fabric rubbing against skin. "So, the usual torture so far?"

I smile and lean against the wood paneled wall, slowly sliding down until I'm sitting on the floor. 

"Worse. The fucking prom, man. The prom makes everything worse."

"Fuck the prom." He says lazily, and we're both silent for a moment as his breath catches as he stretches. I pick at a piece of loose thread on the knee of my pants and listen as he exhales, making a noise in-between a groan and a laugh when he eventually stops. "What time are you there until, anyway?"

I laugh and lean my head back against the wall, palm flattening out against my knee as I consider the question and the possible answers. 

"Until you come save me."

He starts laughing immediately and I hear his chair creak as he leans back in it.

"Fuck off."

\---

"...and the great thing about it is that there are no children there that can't afford things like that, so the whole class benefits from being able to go on certain trips without the risk of missing one because one child can't go. See, in public schools the funds would be limited for things like that." 

I vaguely nod along and try not to listen too hard to what my aunt is telling my parents and I. If I do, I'll get pissed off and say something I'd regret later. And by 'regret' I really mean 'get smacked for'. My parents seem pretty into it though, nodding along and throwing in a few words that just encourages the conversation along. All I really want to do is vanish into the air and avoid the moment that I know is coming up - the moment where my mom has to explain how I got kicked out of my private school for mouthing off the teacher and got put into a public one instead. I don't think the conversation will get that far though, because as it is my aunt's still going on about how much more her children benefit from being in private. I look across the deck and glare at her two so-called children. I'd rather call them the spawn of Satan, all they do all day is complain and ask for things they don't deserve.

I'm about to excuse myself from the conversation and lock myself in the bathroom again when I feel something hitting my back. I frown and look over my shoulder as best I can, at the lawn underneath the deck. Nobody's down there. My entire family's on the porch and I'm tucked away in the corner, half leaning against the house and half against the railing, trying to stay out of as much shit as I possibly can. I'm about to push the things I'm imagining are hitting my back as temporary insanity and go back to wallowing in my own self pity, when something else hits my shoulder and I look over in the general direction it came from.

Looks like shit found me.

I start grinning like a fool when I see Brian peeking his head around the side of the house, both his eyebrows raised and a smirk on his face that just fucking says exactly what he's thinking - that he's Brian Kinney, and I should be down on my knees thanking him right now for saving me from another night in the life of myself. He leans down and picks up another handful of small gravel rocks from one of my grandma's plant pots, one eye closing and tongue poking out of his mouth as he tries to target me perfectly. I'm about to scowl at him when the small pebble goes flying through the air and hits the side of my neck. My mouth drops open immediately and I start frowning and when I look over to where he's at, I pout some more when I see he's pretty much bent over in laughter, trying to keep himself out of sight as much as possible but almost failing miserably.

"How was your prom, Justin?"

My head snaps back around when I hear someone say my name, and I'm sure my expression is all wide eyed and fish mouthed, but when I finally focus back in on my aunt's face, all she's doing is waiting for an answer. She takes a sip of her tea which I'm sure has at least a half bottle of whiskey in it, and raises her eyebrows in a 'what are you waiting for?' kind of way.

"My prom isn't until tomorrow." I state, immediately kicking myself in the ass for my answer. Before she can ask the questions I'm sure are coming - but the Academy's prom isn't until tomorrow, what are you talking about? - I continue on, stumbling through some words and rushing others out. "I got kicked out of the Academy, I'm going to the local high school - do you know it? Montgomery Blair, I think we kicked the Academy's ass in football last week. The team's pretty good, at least I think it is, I don't really like sports that much. Uh. I'll be right back."

In a haze of my parent's stares and my aunt's widened eyes I stand up, fixing the waistband of my pants as I step over infant cousins and between laughing husbands and wives and make my way towards the back house entrance. By the time I'm in the screened-in back porch I'm grinning, and when I enter the kitchen I'm biting the inside of my lips to keep myself from laughing. I duck my grandma's inquisitive glance and step around my uncle's stories as I hurry towards the front hall, stopping at the closet for just long enough to pull my jacket out and throw a glance behind me to make sure I'm not being followed by my mother.

The June air hits my face in a stuffy and warm wave when I open the front door, and after double checking over my shoulder to make sure nobody will miss me, I quietly close it behind me. I can still hear the laughing and the loud voices and the stories of how I fell off the same deck they're all sitting on now when I was eight as I jog down the front steps, shrugging my jacket on and smiling from ear to ear. My grandma's house is like a fucking apocalypse. As soon as you step into the front hall you just feel these demons tugging on the inside of your arms as your knees get heavy, and the further you walk in, the angrier you feel. The entire house is just a Pandoraâ€™s box of pent up emotions and I can only hope nobody ever finds the key.

"I can only imagine what you said to them, judging by the look on your aunt's face."

I laugh and jump off the last step, zipping up the front of my jacket as he comes back around the side of the house. He stops in front of me for no less then a second before he continues on down the drive way, hands deep in his pockets and feet shuffling along the horribly paved and uneven ground. 

"Where'd you park?" I ask, looking up and down the street as I follow after him. He's sauntering along the sidewalk, one foot stepping in the gutter as the other moves along the curb. The bottom of his jeans are dirty and torn from the heels of his shoes.

"Next block over."

\---

"I fucking hate sand."

I glance over at him and shrug, taking another drag of the cigarette I've been working on for a couple minutes as I look back over the horizon. There aren't that many people on this part of the beach very often, which is probably why I always turn up here. There are only a few places worth visiting in this town, and one of them is the beach. I remember coming here when I was only in the single digits and spending the entire day buried under warm sand and swimming in the sun. My mom used to joke that was how my hair got so light, it was bleached by the sun and colored by the ocean water.

"Does that count though?" I ask a few minutes later, and when I speak he looks over at me, all hazel eyes and brown hair falling over his forehead as he reaches for the cigarette. I glance down at his fingers and then hand it over. "I mean, you pretty much hate everything."

He shrugs and leans back against the windshield, bringing his arm up and resting his head on his hand as he looks up at the sky and takes a drag of smoke with the other. I lean back too, closing my eyes as the wind moves my hair across my forehead and I feel almost relaxed for the first time since I woke up this morning.

"I wonder why old people like the beach so much." He says later, and it could've been a minute after I closed my eyes or it could've been an hour. I blink a few times and look over at him, and he's watching the ember burn at the end of his cigarette. Eyebrows knotted and one arm bent behind his head as he ponders the meaning of the universe. "If I was old I'd fucking hate the beach. It's cold and damp and I want to kill all the kids on the playground."

I smile and reach over, taking what's left of the cigarette from between his fingers. He watches my hand and then looks up at my face, smirking as I take the last drag and then throw it off the ledge underneath us. It free falls over the side of the rocks and I can almost hear the hiss as it hits the salty water beneath it. 

"But you'll never get old, right?" I ask, glancing over at his face to see him still watching me. He smiles.

"Fucking right." He nods, a smirk turning the corner of his lips up. "God and me have this plan. I get to be eighteen forever, and if he fucks it up for me then I get to tell everyone he's not real."

\---

"Take off your fucking shoes and come down here." 

He laughs and throws his middle finger in my direction, nail darkened with black marker pen as he watches me with hidden amusement. I smile up at him and then against the rock I'm standing beside, undoing my shoelaces and then tossing the worn sneakers back up to where he's still pretending he doesn't want to be down here with me. One of them hits the dry grass and rolls a foot from where I threw it, half of the dirty white lace strewn across the ground as the other lands inside. I roll up the bottoms of my pant legs and steady myself with one hand as I climb down sharp rocks and sharper drops, toward where the water is cracking against the pepper colored reefs. 

"If you fall I'm not going down there to save you." He calls over the ledge, and I laugh when I hear the lies in his words. I glance back up and see his dark profile against the color of the sky, and my heart throws itself against my ribcage and says 'ow' or something.

"Liar. You'd save me any day." I smile, stepping over a tide pool of red colored anemone. A cigarette butt falls from the sky and I look up just in time to see him looking back down at me. I raise my eyebrows and then step over the still orange embers burning out against the damp rock.

"The fuck I would." He smirks, then he disappears back towards the car and I smile as my toes dip into the salty ocean water. I know in a second his heavy winter boots will be beside my dirty summer sneakers.

\---

As I'm trying to push my hand against the inside of the door for leverage to slide my body down the seat, his fingers move from the bottom of my shirt and to the back of my head, putting space between the handle and my skull. My hands are everywhere and nowhere at the same time, one in-between his shoulder blades and the other on the side of his face as I try and touch all of him at once. He pulls his mouth away from mine, just long enough to give me a toothy and lopsided grin that I can barely return before he's got my bottom lip in-between both of his and his nose is pressed against the side of mine while my body presses against the back seat. I laugh and our teeth knock together and he grips at my hip with one hand and presses down on the top of my head with the other. His palms are warm and I press my bare toes against his ankles.

\---

"I really don't fucking want to go tomorrow." I sigh, head pressed against the window as I watch the street slide by. I look at him out of the corner of my eyes and he's tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of the song that the radio's playing. Some asshole stole his CD player while he was at his sister's place a couple weeks ago, right after he paid fifty bucks to get it fixed. 

"Then don't." He states, like it's the most obvious answer in the world. His fingers pulse against the wheel as we stop at a red light and I roll my eyes, pulling my head away from the window. My skin sticks against the damp glass as I move and there's Justin-shaped fog where my cheek was. "Stop fucking living for your parents Justin, I hate it when you do that."

"You don't know my parents."

He shakes his head and shuts his mouth, eyes moving from the road in front of him to the window beside him and then back again. I frown slightly and lean back against the window, sinking feeling in my stomach as the streets start to have names again and I remember where we're going. I know it's been at least a few hours since I left because it's dark now and the air is a little colder, and the longer I'm gone the longer I end up paying for it.

I smile suddenly, turning slightly to look at him as he concentrates on switching lanes, all scowling mouth and creased forehead.

"When you phoned me earlier, I told my uncle it was my date for the prom." I state, for posterity or something like that, and he rolls his eyes as he leans over to fiddle around with the radio tuner, static filtering through the speakers every channel he changes. I lean back against the seat and the smile stays on my face, almost vacant now but at least it isn't forced. "If I told you I'd skip going to the prom to get drunk with you and watch the sunset, what would you say?"

He glances in my direction and sneaks me a hidden smile.

...

He's hands in my hair and hips, mouth sliding against my throat and knees nudging mine apart. Hips pressed together and fingers behind ears, lips against the bridge of my nose and eyelashes against my cheeks. He's fucking got me wherever he wants me and secretly it's also the other way around.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I whisper as I try and pull myself back. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He finally lets go, eyes half closed and lips red and wet as I exhale, and if it was winter I would be able to see my breath turn to ice in the air. I smile at him and press my fingers against the side of his chest, taking a few steps back before it's too late and he's got his arms around me again. He smiles back and relaxes against the side of his car, laughing as I start walking backwards, working down the street and back towards my family. He looks at me once more with the same half vacant half completely there smile and then pushes himself back up until he's standing. Kicks the tire of his car as he walks back around to his side, and gets in.

I stop walking when I reach the corner of the street and he stops waiting for me to get to a point where he can't see me anymore, turns the engine on and I watch as the exhaust curls through the air and makes it's way toward me as he pulls away from the curb. He's disappearing into a street full of other cars that look like his and all I can think about how my kneecaps feel like they're made out of jelly. I smile and turn around, start walking again and I watch my feet as I build this list inside my head and title it 'the ways he makes me shake'. So far I've got three hundred reasons and counting.


End file.
